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I scrawl my name across the bold line, then slide both the pen and documents over to Rana.
“On behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, we thank you for your service, Professor Locke.” She tucks the binder away in her leather case, then looks me in the eyes. “Don’t take this personally, but I hope to never see you again.”
A smirk hitches the corner of my mouth. “I would think it would be the other way around, agent.”
Her smile is genuine. “As I’m officially off the clock, I’d like a drink.”
Crosby plants his hands on the table and rises from his chair. “Well, everyone, while it’s been eventful, it’s time for me and my client to depart?—”
The door opens, and for a suspended heartbeat, all sounds of the bar fade away. I touch my chest, my heart knocking painfully against my sore rib cage as my gaze connects with hers.
Crosby groans and reseats himself. He then lifts his hand to summon Pal. “I’ll take another.”
“I second that,” I say, my gaze not wavering from Halen as she walks toward the table. Still so breathtaking despite her wounded appearance. Rather, with the bruises dusting her face, I find her even more alluring, strong. A bandage wraps her forearm. Her hair spills in loose waves over her shoulders. She carries her tote in one hand, a notebook tucked under her arm.
“I don’t think you should drink while medicated for pain,” Dr. Keller admonishes me with a stern glare.
Halen rests her bandaged hand on the doctor’s seat-back. “He’s not medicated,” she says, holding my gaze. “Professor Locke doesn’t like to dull his senses.”
My smile stretches. My little seer is starting to see right through me. Anticipation to get her alone nearly has me upending this table, but more than ever, the next sequence of events requires patience.
For now, seeing her here, looking into her hazel eyes and knowing there is a next has to be enough.
“Can I get you a drink, Halen?” Rana asks, her address informal.
As Halen carefully eases into a seat, she shakes her head. “Uh, no, but thank you. I am very medicated.”
Hernandez offers Halen a friendly nod as drinks are delivered. Conversation strikes up around the table, a customary tension breaker at the end of the case. My gaze falls to the notebook Halen sets on the table, noting the town name and date. The Harbinger killer’s third crime scene.
After half a beer, Rana lets it slip that Tabitha revealed the bodies of the deceased missing locals were being stored in the diner fridge units until the organs and other parts could be utilized in the ritual offerings.
“Jesus, we ate there,” Hernandez says, expression horrified.
“That was the least appalling thing uncovered,” Rana says. Placing the amber bottle on the table, she picks at the label with a tight frown. “Mrs. Lipton stated that Emmons killed his brother while aware there was a possible treatment for him.”
A tense silence thickens the air at the revelation.
“He had to make an exchange,” I say, my gaze falling on Halen. “A sacrifice isn’t a sacrifice unless it causes you pain. He chose to sacrifice one person he loved to save the other.”
Halen’s glassy eyes fix on me before she swallows and says, “It explains why Emmons was so dejected, becoming increasingly mentally unstable. Killing an innocent person can attribute to that.”
I watch her closely, observing the way she traces her finger over the notebook cover, her speculative thoughts turning inward.
“Murder of any kind can do that,” Hernandez states, his tone gruff, his gaze purposely aimed away from me.
Halen releases a soft sigh. “When I first came here, I swore this town felt evil. But there are only evil acts. Imperfect people using knowledge imperfectly. Intent to protect the person you care for is harmless, until it’s not.”
I lower my glass of bourbon. “You can be a saint, but you still have the potential to be the devil.”
Halen’s gaze flicks up to capture me as I quote Jung for her sake. A measured beat stretches where we stay locked together, the stirring music rising around us, her sweet, addictive melancholy aching within the core of my chest.
“Carl Jung,” Dr. Markus announces, effectively interrupting the moment. “I always took some issue with his doctrines in college.” This garner’s my attention, and I lift an eyebrow. “Now Nietzsche said, ‘Man is the cruelest animal’. Fittingly stated, I think, for this case incorporating his philosophy.”
Smugly, he takes a sip of his drink. Halen tilts her head, eyes flared wide, as if sending me a warning not to engage. How can I resist?
“Christ,” Rana mutters. “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to the next case that doesn’t involve philosophy.”
Unfazed, Dr. Markus barrels forward. “Now I am still curious about the philosophy of the town as a whole. Mrs. Lipton didn’t have the body modifications to indicate she was a part of the society. How many others like her still reside here? It’s impossible to know how many of the residents were involved.”
